Empty
by Lady Merlin
Summary: How Jim stumbles across his inevitable feelings for Spock and reacts to them, pondering in a typically Jim way. Rated for bad words and some characteristic innuendo, and it's one-sided fluff. Kinda sad. Will have two sequels


Jim and unrequited love do not go well together, but here's a bit of how I think Jim would have stumbled across his feelings for Spock (there are _bound_ to be some, somewhere around) and reacts to them. Peppered with little bits and pieces of fluff and the indicators of the strength of the bond between Jim and Spock.

I own NOTHING. Do not sue! :D

It was sad, really, watching Bones get together with Christine Chapel and Sulu with Uhura and Chekov with a pretty Russian girl a year younger than him. Not that he wasn't overjoyed that they had found happiness in life or anything, he was. It was just sad to have been left behind, in a sense. When he sat down for drinks with his crew there was this _divide_; people who knew the 'joy of marriage, or love' versus the people who knew the joy of freedom, and single-ness. Which wasn't much, frankly speaking. On top of that, everyone in that category was at least five years younger than him, and Spock obviously didn't attend such gatherings.

He must have performed a _hundred_ weddings as the Captain of the Enterprise.

It was a common joke that the Captain had wedded himself to the Enterprise itself. Ensign Mercer had said this and Jim had overheard, and suddenly been struck with a deep echoing sense of emptiness as he flashed his ever-charming smile before marrying the ensign to a woman two years older than himself.

He'd seen love in so many forms, in so many places, and so many times it had been so much more than sexual love, you know. More than the love that appeared because you were attracted to someone whom you could never have.

It was this deep ringing thing in his gut, a great big pit. (He was new to this whole express-yourself-thing and admittedly, bad at it) And the pit was _suddenly_ filled when you met this _one_ person (according to Bones).

Jim had, of course, made some inappropriate comment and had been struck by the look of pity in Bones' eyes. That in itself (Bones was not a pitying man) had told Jim that Bones had changed, and there was probably some truth to the thing too (Bones didn't exaggerate. Much. About important stuff, anyway).

Perhaps, he thought, later that night, unable to sleep, it had something to do with connecting with someone on a deeper more intimate level. Having someone to tell everything might be nice.

It wasn't just that, he defended against the nasty voice in his head that insisted he didn't need anyone or anything except the Enterprise to keep him happy. Jim considered that he might be the only person whose 'good guy' and 'bad guy' loved the same thing to bits; the Enterprise. But back to the evil voice. He defended that it wasn't just a secret keeper he needed.

He wasn't a ten year old girl, for gods' sake.

He needed something _more_. He didn't exactly know what it meant, but he got the impression that not only was he missing something, but there had to be something more out there. A higher level of completeness.

If all those gurus who said they'd achieved completeness, and felt like _this_ all the time, he knew they were really crappy fakes. He wanted to trust someone, he supposed. But he trusted a lot of people, like his _crew_, for one. What did he want?

God_damn_it what was wrong? And suddenly it struck him.

He didn't want to be lonely.

He felt _isolated_. No one could know his fears and nightmares, his deepest, most inner insecurities, because he was Captain, _damnit. _He would show his weakness to none. At least, not until they saw it themselves.

He wanted someone, not that he'd _ever_ admit it, to make sure that for _once_, he was okay. He wanted someone to be his _friend_, with no walls between them. _That_ was what he wanted. He wanted the kind of friendship that defined him. Friendship that was so deep that it could be classified as _love_. He wanted someone who knew him better than he knew himself.

But there were people who knew him well, like Bones and Spock. Come to think of it, Spock knew an unnatural amount about Jim. He knew some things which even Bones didn't know. And Jim felt comfortable around him. More than comfortable, really. He felt _good_ around him, and that didn't happen often. Actually it just didn't happen.

Over the next few days he observed himself around Spock and realised that he acted differently around Spock. He couldn't explain or quantify it, really, and maybe it wasn't even a physical difference in his behaviour. He knew he felt different around Spock. He felt open and relaxed around Spock. He felt a warm strength in himself, a tingling feeling in his stomach that turned into this blaze of fire. _Trust._

But it didn't last long.

After a while he began wondering if Spock felt the same way, and even more terrifying, if Spock could sense he was feeling this. He didn't even bother defining the feeling. He wasn't too sure himself. It just felt good. Kinda like a crush. But Jim was no stranger to crushes, he had had them before. But this was new to him, this feeling which swamped him to the point he couldn't breathe, every-time he so much as looked at Spock. It left him clueless.

He resisted going to Bones for a long time, but after two months he decided he couldn't handle it anymore. It obviously wasn't an emotion. It must be some hideously mutated allergy that appeared spasmodically. That _had_ to be it. There was a small voice that told him otherwise, that he bloody well knew what it was. But this voice was smaller than Jim's 'evil guy', who had been mysteriously dormant for a while, and it was easy enough to ignore it. He was a _Captain_, not a doctor.

When Jim described his symptoms in order of appearance to Bones, Bones' eyes had widened in shock before he fell to his side laughing. Jim honestly didn't think there was anything funny about it, at all, but Bones kept laughing. After two or three minutes of Jim growing crosser and crosser, punctuated with bouts of laughter as Bones tried to open his mouth to speak, Jim got up, arms crossed, and walked away. Bones sobered enough to say that it was perfectly alright, Jim was far from sick, before laughing again.

Jim met Spock outside, who took one look at Jim's scowl and knew better than to ask. He walked with Jim to his quarters and just before Jim slammed the door shut, he asked, "Are you alright, Jim?" and Jim felt this overwhelming gratitude and soft warmth as he nodded, feeling good just because Spock cared. He patted Spock on the shoulder and waited as the half-Vulcan walked down the hallway to his own quarters.

The way it looked to him, he thought as he slumped against the door after it was locked, he felt really good around Spock and felt even better when Spock cared about him. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he had a crush on his half-Vulcan First, Spock. —Silence—

_Fuck_.

Fuckityfuckity_fuck_.

It suddenly made _sense_ now. His retarded cardio gymnastics when he saw Spock, the hot rushes, the blushing, the confusion, everything.

Oh fuck.

Jim was gripped by an overwhelming sense of despair. He couldn't understand it. he felt like he was plummeting from a zillion miles above the earth to the ground, it was taking forever for his feet to find solid ground, he was free falling. There was this feeling like his stomach was in flight, and then pure, unadulterated _panic_.

He wasn't _supposed_ to have a crush on his First, it _couldn't __**happen!**_

His mind was in denial, his heart happily accepted it and tormented his mind with a large number of scenarios, all ending in wild, steamy sex. His stomach, on the other hand was rejecting sustenance, and Bones was noticing. He didn't even dare to sleep for the fear that Spock overhear his torrid dreams through the link that had been formed from too many mind-melds in the line of duty.

_But_, his heart insisted, _but he's nice to you. _

His mind asked, acid in its tone (even though it didn't really have a tone, but that was a minor detail), _so?_

_So maybe he likes you too?_

_He's with _Uhura, _remember? Dickhead. _

At this point Jim thought, hah! I just called myself a dickhead!

He quickly concluded he was going insane due to the lack of sleep and made his way to Bones for a sleeping serum. Obviously Bones didn't give in to _anything, _not even when that _anything_ was his goddamned best _friend!_

But it was Bones' job to be worried and unbelievably annoying. It was one of those pesky unwritten clauses in Bones' contract.

But soon his mind came to the conclusion that he would never, _never, __**ever**_ be with Spock, like _**ever**_. And he had to stick with it. It made life easier to not be drawn to Spock's butt (as was inevitable) and get a hard-on just _thinking_ about it. As a consequence he would get angsty even thinking about sex with Spock, and hence would get angsty looking at Spock's butt. It was _perfectly_ logical. It was a shame it didn't really work.

He had to make do with these little glances at Spock's face that supplemented the majority of his dreams, both waking and otherwise. Spock was really beautiful, and no, that did not make him gay. Even though, you know, considering he had a crush on a man, he was _technically_ gay. But he was not, under _any_ circumstances a pansy. At all.

He wondered at the Universe's sense of irony. Many people would think he had _everything_ he wanted, but it was the one thing, or person that he wanted that he couldn't have that kept him awake at night and unable to focus in the day time.

But he would _never_ tell Spock. They had too much of a good thing going to ruin it all with his damned libido. It was a fucking shame that he was hardwired to connect everything to sex. And it was so hard to hide it from Spock. He was getting better at it, but it didn't get any easier. Spock trusted him and he trusted Spock right back, but hiding this probably gave Spock the impression that he didn't trust Spock as much as Spock trusted him. He tried to tell Spock but Spock smoothly turned down his apologies, though Jim could see the curiousity roused in his eyes.

It was really a damn shame, he thought, sitting there on the bridge during the diplomatic mission. Everything was peaceful and his First was sitting at the science station, typing away. It was impossible to not stare, Spock was a jangle of questions and darkness and un-touch-ability in his mind, the one thing which plagued him.

But he _had_ to stay away from Spock. Confronting Spock with this would end in nothing but a letter requesting transfer from Spock on his desk the morning after. So he heaved a sigh and looked away, thinking of cold, _cold_ showers specifically _without_ Spock (because when Spock was in a cold shower with him, it wouldn't matter if they were showering in asteroid hail)

Sometimes life wasn't fair. It just wasn't. He had come to accept the fact that he was in love with his first officer, and he couldn't even confess to his best friend, who happened to be his first officer. All those dicks who said falling in love with your best friend deserved to be shot in the knees and fed to Klingons. It sucked. And it just happened to him. He sighed again, avoiding the curious glance of his First.

Well? Whaddya think of the whole unrequited love angle? I realise I've gone on quite a bit here but I think I've portrayed Jim's reaction and following confusion pretty decently. Fear not, I will follow up with POV's from Bones and Spock, though they may be a bit shorter than this one. Let me know what you think, okay?

Love,

Lady Merlin


End file.
